Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Rose Landry/Svetlana Vetrova (background)

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Rose Landry, Svetlana Vetrova, Hayden Pike, Gilbert Comeau, J. J. Boiziau

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe, Rival bands AU, Alternate Universe - Punk, Band Fic, Drummer Ilya Rozanov, Bassist Shane Hollander, Banter, Snarky Ilya Rozanov, Ilya has a hand kink, Competent Shane Hollander, Rose/Svetlana situationship, Stoner Ilya Rozanov, drummers are hot, bassists are hot too, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Beautiful Shane Hollander, Shotgunning, Marijuana, Stoned Sex, High Shane Hollander, High Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2025-11-06 Updated: 2026-01-24 Words: 15,700 Chapters: 2/?

I've embraced the calamity

Summary

"We need a bassist. We don’t have a lot of options, so if Shane can keep up, he’s got the gig. I’m pulling rank as the frontwoman, sorry.”

Ilya could tell she was serious and sighed heavily.

“I am telling you, Shane Hollander is never going to be able to keep up with me.”

Ilya and Svetlana's local indie punk band is short a bassist, and Shane Hollander seems to be available, but Ilya hates the guy. You can probably guess what happens next.

Notes

The most self-indulgent fic I've written so far because I wanted my favorite Canadian band, PUP, to exist in the same universe as Hollanov. Title is from their song "Kids." And because punks are hot, drummers are hot, bassists are hot.

For the full experience, please listen to Green Day's song "Welcome to Paradise" when you get to that part of the fic (you'll know when you get there).

Thank you betas Nico and dntat for screaming with me about this idea!!!

Update! @Tuna_m3lts on X made some incredible fanart inspired by drummer Ilya and bassist Shane and it's the best thing I've ever seen!

Chapter 1

Ilya blinked one eye open with a grumble, checking the notification that made his phone buzz and woke him up. 

Fuck you, he mentally replied to Svetlana. She liked to do this, text him the name of the people he went home with, as if he didn’t know. I mean, sometimes he didn’t know. But that was none of her damn business. And he didn’t even take Kayla home, she was too wasted, and he had guided her into an Uber with her friend before walking home. Ilya was a fucking gentleman, thank you very much.

Ilya blinked a few times, eyelids dry and sticking together, his tongue thick and stuck to the roof of his mouth. Fuck, he drank to much last night. He squinted against the late morning sun streaming through the window and groaned. What a waste of a night, and he didn’t even get laid. 

He cleared his dry throat and sat up, running a hand through his mess of curls. He gulped down what was left in a glass of water on his nightstand, then reached for the lighter and bowl next to it — still packed and unsmoked from last night — and took a hit. Walking to the kitchen, bowl and lighter in hand, he surveyed the apartment for any signs of Sveta. She must still be wherever she landed last night. But she was clearly fine enough to send her obnoxious text, wherever she was. 

Pulling out the french press, Ilya began his coffee routine. There was something comforting about grinding the beans by hand, and waiting for it to steep gave him time to take another hit off the bowl. 

Last night had been a fucking disaster. Their band, Bear Knuckles, killed their set. And then Cliff had to ruin it by getting in a bar fight with some asshole who was getting handsy with his girlfriend. The guy deserved it, no question. But Cliff went and broke his hand, because he missed the asshole and punched the solid wooden bar instead. Dumbass. And he probably wouldn’t be able to play bass for at least a couple of months. So now they were without a bassist, just in time for their biggest gig ever in three weeks. Fucking great. 

Ilya took a big swig of coffee and burned his tongue — awesome. Maybe it was time to stop trying to make it. Maybe this was the sign he needed to give up on the band. 

“Fuck!” He yelled into the empty apartment, one minor inconvenience away from throwing his mug across the room. 

Sveta walked in at that exact moment, followed closely behind by Rose Landry. Just what Ilya needed right now, double judgment from these two, who couldn’t get their heads out of their asses long enough to realize they were in love. 

“Having a good morning, darling?” Sveta said brightly, as if she hadn’t had at least 4 tequila shots last night. “Where’s Kayla?”

“Fuck you,” Ilya grumbled. “I came home alone.” He gestured with his coffee mug to the empty apartment.

“Good morning, Rose, looking beautiful as always,” Ilya added, much more pleasantly.

“Hi Ilya,” Rose trilled with a winning smile and a wink. This is what they did, flirted like hell knowing full well they would never touch each other.

Sveta draped herself onto the couch with a sigh and held out a hand, waving to Ilya, “Coffee please.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Ilya rolled his eyes and poured mugs for both her and Rose, juggling them with his own, then landing in the beat up old armchair next to the even more beat up but very comfortable couch. 

“We are fucked.” Ilya stated plainly.

“No!” Rose perked up. “You’re not! I have a solution to your problem.”

“And what would that be?” Svetlana asked, hand over her eyes in the universal sign of someone with a massive hangover.

“You need a bassist for the show in a few weeks.”

“You play bass now?” Ilya, asked skeptically.

Rose cackled, “Fuck no. But Shane Hollander does.”

Sveta barked out a laugh, lifting her hand to look at Ilya with pure evil joy in her eyes.

“No fucking way,” Ilya said firmly. “Fuck that guy, fuck his terrible band, and fuck you for suggesting it.”

“Come on, Ilya, he’s good.” Rose insisted. “Lana, back me up.”

Sveta sighed and said, “Ilya, you know he is good. And if he’s willing to do it, we need him.”

“I would rather Rose than Shane god damn Hollander.”

“Just because you don’t like his band, doesn’t mean he isn’t a great bassist.” Rose pointed out.

“Is not just I do not like his band,” Ilya almost pleaded, “Is that his band is the most boring, corporate sell out bullshit I have ever heard.”

Both women laughed at that, but was Ilya wrong? No. He was right. As always.

“He’s not the songwriter.” Rose pushed back. “Hayden writes all their songs, and sure, they’re kind of bland and generic, fine. But Shane is so talented.”

“Then why is he wasting his talent with Hayden?” Ilya said mockingly, referring to the front man of The Voyageurs, who Ilya despised. 

“I dunno, they’ve been friends forever,” Rose shrugged.

“Wait, why do you know Shane Hollander so well?” Sveta lifted herself from her prone position on the couch to ask Rose accusingly.

“Oh my god, Lana, you’re not allowed to be jealous if you refuse to actually date me,” Rose rolled her eyes. 

“That does not answer my question,” Sveta said with narrowed eyes.

“Fine! We used to date. For like 3 months, years ago,” Rose replied with a huff of frustration.

“Shane is gay,” Ilya interrupted.

“How do you know that?” Rose asked.

“Is obvious. He always is checking me out,” Ilya shrugged.

“Well… okay yeah, he is gay. But he’s not out as far as I know. So don’t be a dick.” She pointed at Ilya.

“He does not need to come out if he is going to look at me like he looks at me,” Ilya smirked.

“Don’t be such a cocky asshole,” Sveta laughed, clearly amused.

“You love it,” Ilya kicked her leg with a smile.

“Makes you a great drummer, I guess,” she sighed.

“Damn right,” Ilya settled back into his chair with his coffee. 

“So can I ask Shane about helping you guys out, or not?” Rose prompted.

“We do need him,” Sveta sighed again. “We’re opening for PUP, we can’t just skip that. We need a bassist, and we need a good one. This gig is going to change everything, Ilya, I know it.”

She looked at him pleadingly and Ilya knew he was going to give in. She was right, this wasn’t a chance they would get again if they turned it down. PUP was huge, one of Ilya’s favorite Toronto bands, and getting in front of their fans could be game-changing for Bear Knuckles. And Sveta deserved the chance for her songs to be heard. They were fucking great, and he couldn’t let his oldest friend down. He’d suck it up and agree to let boring-ass Shane Hollander try out with them.

Ilya signed dramatically and finally said, “Okay.”

Rose and Sveta high-fived excitedly.

“Calm down,” Ilya rolled his eyes. “He can try out. If he’s good enough, maybe – maybe – he can play the gig.”

Rose looked far too satisfied when she said, “You’re going to love him.”

Ilya took another hit off his bowl and handed it to Sveta, sinking down into his chair. 

“Want to order pizza?” He asked, ready to change the subject from Shane Hollander. “I have a lesson at 2.”

Ilya’s day job was teaching music lessons to kids — and some adults — at a local music shop, teaching drums, guitar, and piano. He enjoyed working with kids, they were generally really fun, especially the drummers who were all like little Animal the Muppets. It paid the bills (just barely) and he got a discount on gear, so he wasn’t complaining. 

But teaching wasn’t his passion, and he felt stuck there while the band was working their asses off to get to a point where they could record an album professionally and go on a real tour, without going completely broke in the process. And the PUP gig was their first big break in a while. They were so fucked, and Hollander might be the only one who could help. Like he said — they were so. fucked. 

***

A week later, Ilya and Sveta were setting up in their practice space, waiting for Shane stupid Hollander to get there. 

“I am serious, if this guy is not good — and I know he will not be — I will not play with him just to make Rose happy. She is your problem, not mine.” Ilya said, fiddling with the bolt of one of his cymbals. 

“Rose isn’t a problem. She just… wants to tie me down, and I’m not able to be contained,” Sveta replied with her nose in the air.

Ilya just scoffed.

“And it doesn’t matter, we need a bassist. We don’t have a lot of options, so if Shane can keep up, he’s got the gig. I’m pulling rank as the frontwoman, sorry.” 

Ilya could tell she was serious and sighed heavily. 

“I am telling you, Shane Hollander is never going to be able to keep up with me.” 

And just his luck, that’s when Shane decided to step into the room — without knocking, Ilya wanted to point out — and said, “Um, should I go?”

Sveta glared at Ilya and walked over to Shane, and Ilya went back to tweaking his drum kit.

“No, please ignore him. I would say he’s not usually like this, but he always is.” She stuck her hand out to shake Shane’s. “Thanks for coming, Shane. I feel like we’ve probably met, but I’m Svetlana, that’s Ilya.” 

Shane smiled at Sveta and Ilya ground his teeth. Because fuck this guy. Ilya had hated him since he’d known of him and his awful band. Their bands had orbited each other in the Toronto scene for years, playing at the same bars and house shows, and generally running in the same social circles. And in Ilya’s not-humble-at-all-opinion, The Voyageurs were shit. Their music was boring, Hayden Pike was a phony who wrote derivative bullshit songs that didn’t say anything, and Shane was propping him up with his basic-ass bass playing. He had to admit that their drummer, J.J., was pretty damn talented. But it was wasted on this shitty band.

“Yeah, I think we met a few years ago at Rose’s. I’ve seen you guys play a bunch of times too, you kick ass. I was sorry to hear about Cliff.”

What the fuck? Shane boring Hollander thought Bear Knuckles kicked ass? Since when did he have good taste? 

Ilya pointedly kept this back to Shane, ignoring him until he absolutely had to acknowledge his existence.

“Yeah, Cliff is a moron,” Sveta scoffed. “But he can play bass, which is what we need.”

Ilya heard Shane laugh, “Well, I hope I can help — if I’m able to keep up.”

So he definitely heard Ilya earlier. He didn’t care, he’d say it to his face. As soon as he finished fiddling with his kick drum pedal, which definitely needed some extra attention right now. 

The truth was that Shane lame-ass Hollander was inconveniently very hot. Ilya knew that he used to play hockey, and his body told Ilya he probably still did, with his thick thighs, toned arms with a smattering of tattoos, and perfect hockey ass. His stupid hair looked so soft and it was always falling in his stupid pretty eyes like some kind of teen heartthrob. And he had these stupid adorable freckles dappled across his cheeks that pushed all of Ilya’s buttons. And maybe the reason he knew that Shane was always checking him out was that Ilya was always checking Shane out at the same time. So Ilya might be avoiding his beautiful eyes for the moment. 

Ilya heard Shane unzip his guitar case and ask Sveta where to plug in. Ilya sighed. He’d hear Shane fumble his way through one song and then it would be over, they wouldn’t have to talk again. 

“I doubt you will keep up, but hey, why not try?” Ilya stood, a sarcastic fake smile plastered across his face as he turned to Shane. 

“Okay, what the fuck is your problem?” Shane had a look on his face that made Ilya want to punch him. Or kiss him. Both, really. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were all scrunched up like an angry kitten. It was infuriating. It was adorable. 

“Problem? No problem,” Ilya shrugged. 

“You’ve been an asshole to me since I walked in here, and I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m the one doing you a favor.”

Ilya huffed. “If suffering through you playing the bass is a favor to me, okay sure. You are doing a favor.”

Shane turned to Svetlana with an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, I love Rose and you seem cool, but I’m going to go. I have too much self-respect for this shit.” Shane moved to take off his bass, and Ilya pressed his lips into a smug smirk, feeling triumphant.

“No, please stay!” Sveta basically pleaded. “Ilya will behave himself. Won’t he?”

She turned to Ilya with a furious look on her face, and damn, she could be really scary when she wanted to be. He knew what her wrath felt like, and he wasn’t trying to face it again. 

“Fine,” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Then come on, get this over with.”

Shane looked skeptical, but settled the strap of his bass back on his shoulder. “I’m doing this for you and for Rose,” Shane said to Sveta pointedly, “Not this asshole.”

Ilya bristled, but something about the way Shane called him an asshole also made his stomach flip. There really was something about a bratty pretty boy that did it for him, damn it. 

“Okay, so we always try out bassists with Welcome to Paradise,” Sveta explained. “Do you know that one?”

Shane laughed, “By Green Day? Yeah, I know that one.”

“Of course you do,” Sveta smiled sweetly and raised her eyebrows at Ilya, as if challenging him to protest. Well, just because Shane knew the song didn’t mean he could play it well. “Ready boys?”

They both nodded, and she ripped into the opening chords. Ilya followed on the drums a few beats later, setting the tempo slightly faster than Sveta had started, and he saw her bite back a smile — she knew what Ilya was doing. But Shane jumped in with the bass right on time and kept up the pace just fine. 

Ilya had played this song hundreds of times, so his muscle memory kicked in, allowing him to focus on Shane the whole time. Ilya honed in on Shane’s hands, his long fingers flexing and bending over the frets and thick bass strings with effortless ease. Okay, maybe this guy was somewhat capable, Ilya could admit that. But this was the easy part. He glanced up at Shane’s eyes and saw that Shane was watching him too, tracking his arms as they flew across the drum kit. Before Ilya could look away, Shane’s eyes flitted up to Ilya’s and held his gaze. 

They were just about to reach the long repetitive bass solo — this was the real test. Shane cocked his head to the side in a challenging motion and Ilya took the bait, urging the tempo just the slightest bit faster. Fuck this smug asshole, Ilya was going to make him work for it. 

Shane’s face morphed into casual boredom as he began the solo, Ilya sitting back on his stool to watch with laser focus. Shane’s hands were beautiful. He hit each syncopated note with precision, as if it were easy — as if it were nothing. Cliff had struggled for months to get this bassline down, and he never played this sharp and clean. 

When Ilya came back in on the drums, his eyes met Shane’s again and Shane quirked an eyebrow in a way that asked “was this supposed to be a challenge?” Ilya narrowed his own eyes and pursed his lips in a reluctant smile. Shane darted out his tongue to pull in his bottom lip and bite down on it to hold back the grin that was threatening to break through. They were perfectly in pace and attuned to each other, and it felt like the rest of the room had gone black. All that existed were the rhythm and thrumming beat between them, synced together like perfectly fitted gears. 

Ilya had almost forgotten Sveta was there until she jumped back in with the guitar part that matched up with the bass and let out a “hell yeah!” She was clearly feeling the moment as much as Ilya and Shane were. All three of them were locked in and Ilya started picking up the pace again, bringing them to a speed he’d never played this song at before, and it was thrilling. 

The smile finally broke through on Shane’s face, and fuck if it wasn’t glorious. His brown eyes sparked with the same fire that Ilya was feeling, that indescribable something that ran through his veins when he was playing. It felt like electricity was flowing between them, like Shane’s pulse was completely intertwined with Ilya’s as the hum of the bass reverberated through their bodies. Ilya had never experienced anything like it before, it felt like the rush after the big drop of a rollercoaster, making his stomach do somersaults in the best way.

Shane’s eyes held his, never once breaking contact. Ilya grinned back at him, wide and wolfish, holding his tongue between his teeth. He let out a laughing howl of satisfaction and energy as he laid in on the cymbals to bring them home to the final verse. 

Svetlana was laughing as she sang through the last repeated choruses of the song, and Shane and Ilya both joined in, Ilya rolling his eyes as how stupidly ecstatic he felt. Nothing felt as good as this. And no one had ever looked as good as Shane dumbass Hollander, eyes crinkling as he laughed, gaze still locked on Ilya, hands still hitting each note with perfection. 

They hit the last note and Svetlana jumped up and down a few times, her long ponytail bobbing with her. 

“What the fuck, Shane fucking Hollander?!” She squealed with delight. She stopped jumping to step toward Shane and shove his shoulder. “Get out of here with that perfect shit. I think maybe you’re too good for us, Jesus."

“No, just Shane,” he blushed but his lips twisted into a small smile, clearly preening under Sveta’s praise. She giggled – fucking giggled. Ilya hated him. And he also kind of wanted to pin him against the wall with a leg between his thighs and bite those pink freckled cheeks. 

“Oh my god, I love you already. Damn, I’d give you the job full time if you didn’t have another band.” She turned to Ilya and said, “Soooo, dickhead, does he meet your impossibly high standards?”

“Yeah, dickhead, do I?” Shane turned his smirk on him and Ilya glared at both of them.

“Fuck you both,” Ilya stood and crossed his arms, drumsticks still grasped in his right hand. “Fine, he passed. You passed. Happy?”

Sveta beamed, “Yes. I’m happy.” She turned to Shane, all business now, “Okay, so we have a 30 minute set we’re working on, it’s 6 songs, and I can send you all the demos we have, can you pick up the parts just from that?”

“Yeah, definitely, that’ll work,” Shane nodded. 

“And we practice on Wednesdays and Sundays, this time usually, but it might change depending on my schedule at the coffee shop. And we go for two hours at least, you have to be able to keep up with that. I like to run through the whole set once and then we can work on whatever needs to be worked on. We’re really going to have to run these songs a lot before the show in three weeks. You’re free for that right? I’ll text you, or Ilya will, about timing. Actually, can you give me your number and I’ll start a group chat?”

Ilya bit back a smile at the shocked look on Shane’s face as Sveta went into full Type A band manager mode. She was a badass who wrote ruthless lyrics about homophobia and misogyny and racism and facism — all the isms, really — but Ilya always thought she’d make a killing as a corporate lawyer or some shit if she ever went morally bankrupt. 

“Um, oh, yeah, sure,” Shane looked a bit overwhelmed, but took it all in stride. “Those days should work for me. I need to check my schedule at the rink, but I should be able to get someone to cover me on Wednesdays if I need to.”

Ilya vaguely remembered hearing that Shane had some kind of job at an ice rink where amateur and junior hockey leagues played. That explained the hockey ass. 

Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, Ilya grabbed it and saw he had been added to a group text with Sveta and an unknown number, which must be Shane’s. And Ilya absolutely didn’t care that he now had Shane’s number. He cared so little that he added Shane as a contact immediately. 

“Okay, perfect. Thank you thank you thank you, Shane!” Sveta kissed him on the cheek with a smack and Shane stiffened immediately. Ilya chuckled to himself, enjoying Shane’s discomfort. “All right, would you be up to listening to a couple of the songs now and seeing what you can pick up?”

Shane nodded, and they got started. Ilya was reluctantly impressed with how quickly Shane picked up on each song so easily — he heard the bass parts one time, and could play them back perfectly. On a second runthrough, he’d start improvising and adding little licks that Cliff would never have thought of, but that worked perfectly with Sveta’s guitar parts. Where the fuck was all this creativity in Shane’s awful band? He came alive here in a way Ilya had never seen when he caught a Voyageurs gig. 

After an hour, Svetlana’s phone buzzed and she sighed.

“I’m sorry guys, I have to run early. Rose needs me at the shop. But this was perfect, thank you. Shane, you’re literally saving our lives and I will owe you one hundred favors after this,” she said to Shane, as she put her guitar in its case and unplugged her pedal board. “I’ll see you Wednesday. And I’ll see you at home,” she pointed at Ilya on her way out the door, “unless you’ve talked some poor soul into fucking you tonight, in which case, good luck to them.”

“First of all, any one would be lucky to take me home, and second, shut the fuck up and go help your girlfriend.” Ilya walked out from behind the drum set and saw Shane’s eyes darting between him and Sveta, clearly trying to understand their antagonistic friendship dynamic.

Once Svetlana was out the door, an awkward silence hung in the air. Ilya didn’t have any cleaning up to do, he just left his drum kit in place in the studio. He grabbed his backpack while Shane packed up his bass and his own pedal board.

“Guess you need that for The Voyageurs practice?” Ilya asked with disdain.

Shane stood from where he was kneeling, zipping his case, and crossed his arms. 

“Yeah, is that an issue for you?” Shane asked.

“Nope.” 

“Sounds like you have something else to say.” 

Ilya scoffed. “You are clearly a very good bass player…”

“Okay…” Shane looked surprised at the compliment.

“So it makes no sense to me that you are in that shitty band.” Ilya finished his thought.

“Oh fuck you, you think you’re better than us?” 

“Yes, actually, I do,” Ilya asserted as he took a step towards Shane, dropping his backpack again.

Shane took a step back, but found himself up against the wall, just as Ilya had envisioned earlier. Ilya might have been imagining it, but he thought Shane’s eyes might have darted to Ilya’s lips for a split second. 

“You’re an asshole,” Shane rolled his eyes, and Ilya stepped even closer. They were only inches apart now.

Ilya didn’t know what he was doing, or why, but there was some magnetic pull drawing him towards Shane. The electricity from playing together, from syncing up so perfectly, still hummed lightly through Ilya’s veins, and he wanted to be closer, even as Shane was insulting him. Something about riling up this effortlessly beautiful man, flustering him, sent another thrill through Ilya.

“Well you are wasting your talent on Hayden Pike’s terrible songs,” Ilya quirked a brow and set a hand on the wall above Shane and leaned over him, forcing Shane to tilt his head up slightly to look at him. 

“Fuck you,” Shane grumbled, but he was fighting a smile. His cheeks were pink again, the flush spreading across his face to his ears, and his eyes fluttered, lashes long and beautiful against his cheek. 

“You want to?” Ilya asked with a crooked grin, and Shane sputtered, but before he could answer, Ilya was leaning down and pressing his mouth on Shane’s pouty lips.  

Shane stiffened for a split second, and then he melted under Ilya. His hands gripped Ilya’s hips, and Ilya cupped Shane’s face, stroking his thumbs over those stupidly cute freckles on his cheekbones. Shane darted his tongue out and that was all the invitation Ilya needed to open his mouth and allow Shane entry. 

Ilya felt Shane’s hands shift up his sides, pulling up the fabric of his already-cropped shirt, and then those beautiful fingers that had been so precise on the bass were sliding up his back. A light grumble of a moan escaped Ilya’s throat and was swallowed by the wet heat of Shane’s lush mouth. Ilya raked his hands into Shane’s hair, and fuck, it was as soft and thick as Ilya had imagined. He tugged back, urging Shane to open even more for him, and he was pliant under Ilya’s hand. 

They stayed like that, Ilya pressing Shane into the wall, hands roaming each other and mouths wide in an all-consuming kiss, for long minutes until Ilya finally had to pull back for air. Shane took a second to open his eyes, looking dazed and absolutely wrecked. But as his breaths evened out, his face went from bliss to panic and he pushed lightly on Ilya’s chest, slipping out from between him and the wall. 

“What the fuck was that?” Shane half-gasped, holding hand over his mouth in shock.

“Seems like you enjoyed it,” Ilya smirked at him. 

“You hate me,” Shane shot accusingly back at Ilya. 

“Hate is a strong word,” Ilya shrugged. “Maybe I do not like you, is true. But I like your hands — and your mouth.”

“Well, I don’t like you either,” Shane grumbled, cheeks still pink and hair a disheveled mess. 

“But you like my mouth,” Ilya waggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up, no I don’t. I have to go.” Shane leaned to pick up his bass and pedal case, shaking his head like he needed to slough off the remnants of their makeout session. He was halfway through the doorway when he turned back and said, “Don’t tell anyone about that, okay?”

“Why?” Ilya chuckled.

“Because!” Shane made a face like the answer was obvious, but it really wasn’t.

“Because…?” Ilya prompted. He was getting way too much enjoyment out of annoying this guy. He was so fucking cute when he was annoyed. He hadn’t been planning to tell anyone, Sveta would never stop teasing him about it if she knew he had kissed Shane after complaining about him so relentlessly. But now he kind of wanted to, if Shane was so concerned about it.

Shane sighed, looking like he was debating answering. 

“Because… because I’m not out,” He looked away from Ilya as he said it, an edge in his voice that could be fear or frustration, probably a bit of both. 

“Oh,” Ilya felt bad now. He forgot Rose had said that Shane wasn’t out. “Right. I will not tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” Shane sighed. “I’ll see you Wednesday, I guess.”

And he was gone, leaving Ilya feeling confused and unfairly horny. 

***

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Ilya was so pent up, he wanted to scream. He hadn’t gotten to play on his real drum kit since their last practice, and he’d been stuck on the electric setup he had in his room which just wasn’t the same. He had picked up some extra lessons and a bartending shift, scrounging for some extra cash wherever he could.

But the real reason he was pent up was because he couldn’t stop thinking about Shane fucking Hollander. The image of Shane’s fingers on his bass, the feeling of those same fingers crawling up his back, were on a constant loop in Ilya’s mind. It was driving him crazy, because as much as he wanted to continue hating Shane, he couldn’t. Not when he played that well and tasted that good. 

Since Sunday, Shane was on his mind constantly. He’d walked home after that practice, still reeling from their kiss, hoping to clear his head, and slumped onto the couch with his bong and took a long drag. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to think about anything but the softness of Shane’s lips. But the weed only made him hornier, so he dragged himself to his room before he reached into his shorts and jerked off hard and fast. Shane’s little moans and breaths rang in his ears while he imagined what it would feel like to have those long, talented fingers of Shane’s around his cock. He came in a rush and was immediately flooded with shame. But he repeated the same pattern every day since, imagining different ways of taking Shane apart, always with that humming vibration of Shane’s bass in the back of his mind. 

So when Shane walked into practice Wednesday, bass slung over his shoulder and uncertainty in his eyes, Ilya’s dick might have twitched. It was a natural reflex at this point, but he had to get it under control. It wouldn’t be easy — not with how Shane looked in the cutoff shorts and boxy t-shirt he was wearing. Ilya raked his gaze up from Shane’s tanned thighs to his beautiful hands and the tattoos scattered over his arms, to his long neck and landed on his plush mouth. Fuck, he looked good. Ilya had to snap out of it.

Shane avoided making eye contact with Ilya as he started setting up, clearly still uncomfortable with how things ended at the last practice. Ilya didn’t say anything, just settled into his spot and waited for the other two to be ready to practice.

“What is going on, I thought you two reached a truce on Sunday?” Sveta asked.

“Nothing is going on. What, we are supposed to hug?” Ilya asked, annoyed at being called out.

“No, there’s just a weird vibe in here,” she looked between them, and Shane kept his head down. 

“You are the weird vibe, maybe.” Ilya deflected. “Can we just play, this is not America’s Best Friend Race.”

“I should never have shown you Drag Race,” Sveta sighed. “Fine, let’s go.”

They made it through their whole set twice, Shane somehow hitting every note perfectly, and suggesting slight changes to the bass lines to make them more interesting and give them more depth. By the time they wrapped up at 9pm, Shane seemed much more comfortable, and Ilya was relieved. Sveta was beaming with excitement about the ways Shane was enhancing her songs.

“Fuck, dude, I don’t know how we played these songs without you before,” She smacked Shane’s arm and he blushed, ducking his head. Ilya wanted to get his hands back on those pink cheeks so bad. He needed to figure out a way to get Shane alone again, that couldn’t be the only time. Ilya needed more.

“You guys were great already, it’s not that much of a difference,” Shane demurred.

“No,” Ilya chimed in. “You have made us better.”

He said it with sincerity, because he meant it. After this practice, it was clear. The Voyageurs sucked despite having Shane in the band. They clearly didn’t give him the freedom to do his own thing on the bass, because seeing his creativity flow in practice today, Ilya could tell that Shane wasn’t just technically skilled, he also had an innate understanding of music and impeccable instincts.

Like Ilya told Shane before, his talent was being wasted in that band. Ilya was starting to formulate a plane so he could have more of Shane — in the band and, he hoped, in his bed. 

“Wow, um, thank you,” Shane replied to Ilya. “I appreciate it, you guys. It’s been fun, these songs are amazing, Svetlana. It’s fun to have something new to work with, you know?”

Ilya snorted.

“Don’t start,” Shane rolled his eyes at Ilya.

“I am starting nothing,” Ilya held up his hands in surrender, still grasping his drumsticks.

“Sure you’re not,” Sveta laughed. “But thank you, Shane. What are you up to now? We usually get a drink at Reid’s on Wednesdays — Troy always gives us free drinks when Ilya flirts with him.”

“Really?” Shane raised his eyebrows at Ilya, who shrugged. “I’d love to witness that.”

“Is not my fault I am so charming bartenders force drinks on me,” Ilya hummed smugly. 

“Yeah, I doubt that,” Shane scoffed. “It’s just because you’re hot.”

His eyes went wide with fear as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Sveta covered her mouth with her hand, clearly trying not to laugh, and Ilya crossed his arms over his chest with a satisfied smile.

“You think so?” He asked with mock curiosity.

“I mean… you know,” Shane gestured at Ilya, who was wearing loose jeans that hung low on his hips. With his arms crossed like this, his cropped t-shirt scrunched up to reveal a sliver of skin above his waist band, and the cut-off sleeves perfectly accentuated his biceps. Ilya knew he looked good. He just hadn’t expected Shane to say it. 

“Like, objectively speaking, you’re like… oh fuck you.” Shane huffed and grabbed his bass bag, realizing that Ilya was about to tease him. “I’m going home, see you Sunday.”

“No, don’t go!” Sveta interjected. “Wednesday drinks are important band bonding time. Ilya obviously knows he’s hot, and we both know that his personality ruins it as soon as he opens his mouth, so just ignore him.”

“I guess I could come for one drink,” Shane sighed, pointedly avoiding looking at Ilya. 

Sveta shot a death glare at Ilya as Shane led the way out the door. Ilya shrugged — he didn’t do anything this time, it was all Shane. 

“I just need to put my stuff in my car, I’ll meet you guys there,” Shane said.

They walked into the dingy, familiar pub across the street, one they had played in countless times. It was mostly empty except for a few regulars, scraggly old punks who had been drinking here for 30 years. The low drop-ceilings were stainridden and the walls were covered with years of layers of band stickers. It smelled like stale beer and faintly of weed, and the air was hazy even though indoor smoking had been banned for ages. There were an array of pride flags scattered behind the bar. Ilya loved it here, it was like home.

He elbowed Sveta as they entered the dim room. 

“Hey, that wasn’t my fault. He called me hot. I am not supposed to say something about that?” Ilya asked.

“He clearly felt uncomfortable, and you had to needle him anyway. Rose told us he’s not out, so why don’t you just give him a break?” 

Now Ilya desperately wanted to tell Sveta about kissing Shane, about how that comment implied a lot more than she knew, but he’d promised Shane he’d keep quiet, and Ilya would keep his word.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I kinda want to just poach Shane from his band for real,” she continued. “I mean, sorry to Cliff, but we can’t go back to that after knowing something better is out there.”

“I agree,” Ilya nodded. “Cliff will be fine, he wants to have kids or whatever, he’s not going to have time to tour anyway. Shane is better, I will admit it. To you. Maybe not to him.”

“You’re such a dick,” she laughed. 

“She’s right,” Troy agreed as they approached the bar. “What’s he being a dick about?”

“I need new friends,” Ilya grumbled as Troy handed him a beer with a grin. 

At that moment, the front door opened and Shane walked in, eyes catching Ilya’s as he turned around. Shane gave Ilya a knowing half-smile and Ilya couldn’t help but chuckle. He pointed at their usual table and met Shane there with another beer in his hands. Sveta stayed at the bar chatting with Troy.

“Thanks,” Shane nodded. 

Ilya slid into the booth next to Shane, so they were both facing the bar, watching Sveta and Troy laugh. Ilya was acutely aware of Shane’s body next to his, only inches away and radiating warmth. He swung his leg slightly to the side under the table so his foot bumped Shane’s, and Shane’s face blossomed with that pink Ilya loved so much — a small smile tipped his lips as he sipped from his bottle of beer. 

“I think you are hot, too,” Ilya offered. An olive branch and a reminder of what they’d done on Sunday, and, Ilya hoped, a subtle invitation. 

“Yeah, I could tell,” Shane sipped and smiled again, both of them still looking straight ahead. 

“Are you going to do anything about it?” Ilya finally looked at Shane, who was now completely red. 

Shane lifted one shoulder in response, and Ilya wanted to bite that shoulder just to see how he would react. Fuck, he wanted this.

Sveta finally came over to the table, and started telling them all about the drama between Troy and his former coworker Dallas, who had been fired for serving underage girls. Shane chimed in with the details he had heard from his friend Ryan who also used to work here as a bouncer.  They talked and got another round, and it was surprisingly easy. Rose showed up, pulling up a chair next to Sveta, and after a couple of beers, Shane seemed to relax, and it was like they’d all been friends for years — no hint of the animosity that still lingered between him and Ilya an hour ago. 

“Okay, I should get going,” Ilya downed the last of his drink and slammed it on the table. “I have an early lesson.”

“Oh yeah, I should go too,” Shane said. 

Sveta and Rose both looked at Ilya with questioning eyes, subtlety clearly a foreign concept to them. 

“Why do you have to go Shane?” Rose asked with faux innocence.

“I’m going to see my parents in Ottawa tomorrow, so I need to leave early in the morning,” Shane answered.

Oh. Hm. Ilya thought maybe… oh well. They said their goodbyes and walked out together. When they were on the sidewalk, Shane turned to Ilya.

“Do you want a ride home? I think you walked, right? I have my car…”

Maybe Ilya’s instinct was right after all. 

“Sure, thank you,” Ilya replied, gesturing for Shane to lead the way. 

Ilya couldn’t help but laugh when they approached Shane’s Jeep Cherokee.

“What? Are you laughing at my car?” Shane asked, defensive.

“Sorry, sorry, is just… such a mom car,” Ilya chuckled.

“You’re a drummer, you should understand why I need a car with a lot of space for gear…” Shane argued. “I’ve known drummers who drive minivans to fit all their shit.”

Ilya’s laugh tapered off, “You’re right, is just… Jeep Cherokee is the car of all the moms who take their kids to drum lessons.”

“Well, they need the space too, right? Just get in the fucking car if you want a ride. I’m regretting offering already.”

Ilya climbed into the passenger seat and when Shane was seated, Ilya reached out and stroked a hand across Shane’s shoulder and up the nape of his neck. Shane shivered and his cheeks pinked.

“Still regretting?” Ilya teased. 

“I’ll see how I feel when we get to your place,” Shane shot back with a laugh, starting the car and shrugging off Ilya’s hand. “Which way should I go?”

Ilya debated for a second if he really wanted to push this, but then he glanced at Shane’s fingers tapping on the steering wheel and knew he had to have those hands on him again.

“Svetlana is my roommate. She will probably be home in another hour.” 

“Okay? And which way is that?” Shane asked. So oblivious it was almost cute.

“You could take me there,” Ilya continued, “Or you could take me to your place. So we are not interrupted.”

“Interup… oh. Right.” Shane glanced at Ilya and Ilya winked at him, setting the last trap that would hopefully capture Shane’s interest. “Sure, yeah, let’s go to my apartment.”

Ilya was surprised to find that Shane’s studio apartment was not devoid of personality as he’d expected. It was a typical 20-something man’s apartment with movie and band posters on the walls, and an assortment of mismatched furniture that was likely thrifted or hand-me-downs like Ilya and Sveta’s. He had a bedframe, which was a huge step up from a lot of other guys their age, and he even had some houseplants around. He was like a real person. Ilya immediately felt comfortable here.

“Um, so yeah, this is my place. It’s pretty small, but you know, just me,” Shane said, setting his bass and pedal cases in a corner. “Do you want a drink or something? I have beer, I might have a bottle of wine somewhere. Or, like we don’t have to drink drink. I have ginger ale or seltzer or water too, I’m not suggesting you need another drink or anything.”

His nervous babbling was doing nothing to quell Ilya’s attraction. This anxious, polite energy was not at all what he had expected from Shane before they actually met. He thought Shane would be either a pretentious douchebag or a personality void. But he had revealed himself to be funny, determined, and extremely self-conscious, but not a pushover. Ilya was reluctantly charmed.

Ilya walked to him in the center of the room and put a hand gently on Shane’s hip. It was warm and solid and sturdy and Ilya resisted the urge to squeeze, at least for the moment. Shane’s head was facing the kitchen area, so Ilya gently took hold of his chin and turned Shane’s face to his.

“Shane,” Ilya said softly.

“Yeah?” Shane asked. His beautiful eyes were wide and questioning, and Ilya couldn’t help the way his lips tipped up slightly at the sight of them.

“I don’t want a drink,” Ilya said with a low chuckle. “I want your damn mouth.”

And Ilya took what he wanted. 

Tilting Shane’s chin up a centimeter more, Ilya pressed his lips, slightly parted, to Shane’s, who instantly opened to him. Shane hummed a small moan as soon as their tongues brushed, and Ilya moved his hand so he was gripping both of Shane’s hips. This time, he did squeeze, and it pulled another soft moan from Shane, whose hands were now pushing up Ilya’s chest and fisting his t-shirt in his hands. 

Shane pulled back, breathless and pink-lipped, and tugged Ilya by the shirt as he said, “Bed. Here.” 

He pushed Ilya back onto the mattress, and Ilya laughed as Shane crawled on top of him and smashed their mouths back together. Shane was taking control now, finally letting his instincts take over with the same focus in his expression that he had when he was playing bass. He pulled his mouth from Ilya’s and kissed down his jaw to the long column of his neck and Ilya jerked with pleasure at the feeling of Shane’s teeth against his skin.

“Fuck, Hollander,” Ilya breathed with a grin. “Such intensity, always.”

Shane pulled up off Ilya’s neck, and propped himself up on his hands. “Sorry, was that too much?”

“Fuck no,” Ilya leaned up to nip at Shane’s mouth. “I fucking love it. Get this off.”

He started pulling up at the sides of Shane’s t-shirt and Shane laughed.

“Hold on hold on,” Shane sat up on his knees and Ilya chewed on his lip as he savored the view of Shane pulling his shirt over the back of his head. It left his hair ruffled, which only added to the effortless beauty before him. Shane’s chest was toned and smooth, and Ilya couldn’t stop himself from brushing a hand down it, grazing a nipple along the way to Shane’s hard abs which flexed under Ilya’s soft touch. Shane squeezed Ilya’s hips with his strong thighs, and Ilya thought about having those thighs around his ears. Soon, hopefully. 

But for now, he sat up and deftly flipped them over, leaning over Shane as he settled between his legs. It was the perfect position to grind their cocks together — they were both so hard, and Ilya shuddered at the contact. 

“Your turn,” Shane gestured to Ilya’s shirt and he pulled it off, not that there was a lot of it left with how much Ilya chopped it up. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Shane whispered, and looked like he regretted it immediately.

“You already told me,” Ilya smirked as Shane’s face flushed that beautiful pink Ilya was getting addicted to.

“Yeah, well…” Shane trailed off, and Ilya dove in to kiss and nibble at his soft neck. He was too cute to resist when he was embarrassed. 

“Obviously,” Ilya said between kisses, “I feel the same. So hard to keep my hands off you in practice.”

“Really?” Shane breathed as he ran his hands through Ilya’s messy mop of curls.

“They way you play turns me the fuck on,” Ilya mumbled into Shane’s chest as he worked his way down the hard plane of his torso with lazy, wet kisses. 

“You too, your arms, the way you move…” Shane whispered, “Oh shit, yeah, that’s good.” 

Ilya lapped at one of Shane’s nipples, then the other, wanting to taste every inch of him. He tasted like the sweat they worked up in practice, with something sweet and irresistible lingering on the salty skin that Ilya thought might just be Shane. How was he this fucking gone for Shane Hollander? A couple of weeks ago he’d be leaving any room Shane walked into, and now he felt like he never wanted to stop tasting Shane’s skin. 

He worked his way down to the waistband of Shane’s slutty little shorts and began unbuttoning them.

“This okay?” Ilya looked up at Shane and asked, and the lust-drunk gaze he was met with took his breath away.

Shane nodded and breathed, “Please.”

And with that one word, Ilya was completely gone. He needed Shane’s dick in his mouth now, needed to hear him fucking beg. Ilya shuffled back to pull off Shane’s shorts and boxer briefs in one go, revealing his hard, swollen cock. It wasn’t huge, but it was beautiful like the rest of Shane. It stuck straight up out of a small tuft of dark hair that Ilya found strangely adorable, and Ilya was going to devour it. 

He licked lightly at the head and Shane whimpered. Ilya savored the sound as much as the taste of the precum that Shane was already leaking. He got the head wet and dripping with spit before wrapping his lips fully around Shane and sliding down slowly. He flitted his eyes up to witness Shane’s eyes close with a shudder and a moan, and Ilya sucked his cheeks in even more just to see how Shane would react.

“Fuck that’s good,” Shane whispered, more to himself than to Ilya, and Ilya’s heart melted a little more at the pureness that was Shane Hollander.

With that encouragement, Ilya bobbed on Shane’s cock and soaked up the little gasps and moans Shane made with every movement of Ilya’s lips and tongue. He needed more of that. He pulled off, and Shane whined at the loss, which made Ilya huff a laugh. 

“Patience,” Ilya hushed Shane before dipping his head below Shane’s cock and swirling his tongue around Shane’s balls.

“Oh god, please yes, more of that,” Shane sighed. His leg twitched and he nearly yelped in surprise when Ilya took one of his balls completely in his mouth. Shane spread his legs wider to give Ilya more access. Ilya softly sucked and licked one ball, then the other, while his firm grip stroked Shane’s needy cock with the slickness leftover from Ilya’s mouth. Shane was a whimpering mess when Ilya finally pulled off his balls.

“Come back up here,” Shane breathed, “I want to kiss you.”

Ilya happily returned to Shane’s mouth, but not before asking cheekily, “Want to taste yourself on my tongue?”

“Gross, nevermind,” Shane laughed and lightly shoved Ilya’s shoulder. “Get back down there.”

“Too late,” Ilya grinned and kissed Shane, sloppy and deep, and Shane moaned again. Apparently he did like the taste of himself, and that was unreasonably hot to Ilya. This usually contained, precise man had a freaky side, and Ilya suspected he was just scratching the surface.

As they kissed, Shane reached a hand between them to attempt to slide off Ilya’s jeans and Ilya laughed into his mouth before shoving them off himself and descending back onto Shane’s swollen pink lips. He wanted to feel them on his dick, but he didn’t want to stop kissing for even a second. 

“Do you have lube?” Ilya asked, mouth only an inch away from Shane’s.

“Hm?” Shane asked, blinking his eyes open. “Oh, um, yeah? Let me…”

Ilya sat back to let Shane lean across the bed for the lube in his nightstand drawer. 

“What for?” Shane asked.

“For this,” Ilya said as he drizzled some in his hand and held it in his palm to warm it. He then adjusted their position so their cocks lined up between them, and Ilya stroked up both their lengths with his slicked hand.

“Ohhhh yeah,” Shane breathed out, eyes wide and staring at the slow movements of Ilya’s hand on both of them. He propped himself up slightly on his elbows to get a better vantage point and his jaw went slack as he watched Ilya bring them off together. 

Ilya’s dick was thicker and longer than Shane’s but he was still able to grip both of them in his large calloused hand. It felt incredible, and he loved the effect it was having on Shane, who looked dazed, with hooded eyelids and lips slightly parted.

“That good for you?” Ilya asked, as he began to thrust slightly into his hand. 

“So fucking good,” Shane exhaled shakily. He also started rocking his hips so their cocks were rubbing against each other within Ilya’s tight grip. Pleasure shot through Ilya and he was dangerously close to coming already. He didn’t know if he was more turned on by the feeling of Shane’s dick sliding against his or the way Shane was reacting with breathless whimpers that came faster and faster as Ilya stroked.

“I’m… I’m gonna come…” Shane breathed. “Oh shit, oh fuck, please, Ilya.”

The plea and Ilya’s name on Shane’s lips were too much, and he felt himself get closer to the edge. Shane threw his head back and groaned deeply and Ilya had to bend over him and suck on his beautiful neck again. With a single swipe of Ilya's tongue over his pulse point, Shane lost control and erupted into Ilya’s hand. His release was hot and thick dripping down Ilya’s cock, and Ilya stroked Shane through his shuddering orgasm. The sight of them both covered in Shane’s come pushed Ilya over the edge and he Ilya came with a low breathy moan. They both watched as their releases melted together over Ilya’s big hand, breathing heavily and letting the pleasure wash over them.

After a long moment, Ilya dropped his head to Shane’s shoulder and finally released them from his grip. “Fuck that was good,” He huffed an oxytocin-drenched laugh into Shane’s soft skin.

“Yeah…” Shane sighed dreamily. “It was.”

Ilya flopped down onto the bed next to Shane, and resisted the urge to wipe his come-covered hand on Shane’s stomach. Just barely, but he did resist it.

“Need to clean up,” Ilya mumbled into the side of Shane’s face, not wanting to move.

“Wait here, let me get something to clean up with,” Shane said as he hopped out of bed. He came back from the small bathroom a minute later with a few damp clothes, then sat down next to Ilya and wrapped his messy hand in one, slowly wiping it clean. He then did the same to himself and Ilya’s softening cock. 

Ilya lay there, eyes tracking Shane’s every movement, as he quietly and meticulously cleaned them up. It was so gentle and sweet, and Ilya regretted every judgmental thing he ever said or thought about Shane — and there were many. 

Shane swiped the cloth over Ilya’s stomach one last time, and smiled shyly at him once he was done.

“Thank you,” Ilya said.

Shane didn’t say anything, just held Ilya’s gaze with the corner of his mouth tipped up. In an instant, Ilya reached up from his relaxed position and wrapped his arms around Shane to pull him down next to him on the bed and squeezed him tightly.

“Why are you so fucking cute?” Ilya asked, voice muffled by Shane’s hair. “I wanted to hate you so much, but you make it impossible.”

Shane laughed into Ilya’s chest, the soft tickle of his breath rustling Ilya’s chest hair. “I don’t know? I don’t know why you wanted to hate me. I always…” he trailed off.

“Always what?” Ilya asked, with a grin Shane couldn’t see.

“Always wanted to know you. Talk to you. But you’re kind of intimidating.”

Ilya chuckled. “Yeah, I have heard that before.”

“Well, people don’t know what a softie you really are.”

“Am not a softie!” Ilya protested, pulling Shane off of him to look him in the eye.

“Yeah you are, I can tell.” Shane smirked. “Maybe you’re only a softie when you respect someone’s music enough.”

“That is fair,” Ilya shrugged and pulled Shane back to him. “So just to Sveta and now you. Now that I know what you can do with those fingers on the bass. Is easier to be nice to you.”

“You really are such an asshole.” Shane laughed. 

“I know. You like it though.”

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

They stayed like that, naked and tangled up in Shane’s sheets for long minutes, Ilya’s eyes drooping and Shane’s breathing evening out. Ilya sighed.

“If you don’t want Sveta to know I went home with you, I should probably go,” he murmured.

“Oh,” Shane shifted to look at Ilya. “Yeah, I guess you’re right… Unless, you wanted to stay?”

Shane’s voice was tentative and hopeful, and of course Ilya wanted to stay. 

“You don’t mind if she knows?” Ilya pressed, wanting Shane to be sure.

“I mean… Rose probably already told her I’m gay,” Shane sighed. “And if I’m going to be playing with you guys for a while, I guess I don’t mind. Svetlana seems cool.”

“Well… Rose did tell us, but only after I said I knew you were gay from the way you looked at me,” Ilya chuckled.

“What the fuck, that’s so homophobic!” Shane protested.

“Is not! I just… you think I did not notice you eye fucking me every time we have seen each other? I noticed, Shane.”

“Ughhh, I don’t want you to stay anymore. Goodbye!” Shane flipped over and turned his back on Ilya.

“Yes you do,” Ilya curled around him and kissed the back of his neck and around to the hinge of his jaw. 

Shane tilted his head back into the kiss and Ilya chuckled. He enjoyed this dynamic they seemed to have, where Ilya intentionally got under Shane’s skin and Shane pretended to hate it. 

“You do not have to answer,” Ilya asked, settling his arm around Shane’s chest, “but why are you not out to your band?”

With a sigh, Shane replied, “I dunno… maybe I’m just afraid. They’re all so straight, you know? Always talking about eating pussy like it’s the greatest thing on earth.”

“Can’t argue with that, but does not mean I don’t love sucking dick too,” Ilya said suggestively.

“Well, I’m not a fan,” Shane laughed. “And they are such… bros, you know that I mean? We all met playing hockey together. I’m afraid they wouldn’t understand.”

Ilya was trying hard not to get angry. As if he didn’t hate Shane’s band enough for their boring music, now he had to hate them for being possible homophobes. That couldn’t be right. This scene wouldn’t tolerate a band full of homophobes.

“I don’t like your band,” Ilya started and had to shush Shane’s instant protest. “And makes sense such straight guys would write such boring music. But I have a feeling they are not bad people. And would probably accept you. If you did want to tell them.”

Shane sighed again. “You’re probably right.”

“Usually am,” Ilya said with another kiss to Shane’s neck. He was far too comfortable in this position, and really did not want to leave. Might not ever want to leave. 

“How many times can I say you’re such an asshole in one day before you stop kissing me like that?” Shane asked, as he turned his head to meet Ilya’s lips with his own.

“At least three more,” Ilya laughed into Shane’s mouth. “So, I can stay?”

“Sure,” Shane shrugged, but his smile betrayed him. He wanted Ilya to stay.

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

Mostly just wanted to write a shotgunning/stoned sex scene, and all this came out! And now I have a better idea of where this is going, so there will be more chapters after this one.

Thank you Nico and dntat and Heather for betaing and helping me make something more than just smut out of this chapter! I'd be lost without you!

It wasn’t like Shane to be late for band practice. It definitely wasn’t like him to miss band practice. But it had been an unusual month and he was doing a lot of new things, like secretly playing in Ilya Rozanov’s band. And waking up with Ilya Rozanov in his bed a few times a week. 

Shane had thought he'd play the one show with Bear Knuckles as a favor to Rose, and then be done. But their bassist Cliff’s girlfriend was apparently pregnant, and he was quitting the band to get a second job. Shane respected it. And Svetlana and Ilya… they were maybe too happy that they didn’t have to ask Cliff to leave the band.

That had surprised him; Shane hadn’t realized they’d been plotting to convince him to take Cliff’s spot. He hadn’t accepted yet, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Theoretically, he could be in two bands. It’s not like he was writing the music, he just had to show up and play bass, which he could do half asleep. Like he was going to do now, because he’d been kept up late by Ilya, yet again. Shane chewed his lip and held back the smile that always crept up his face when he thought about Ilya these days.

He walked into Hayden’s back door without knocking, as usual, and waved to Jackie before plodding down to the basement where his bandmates were waiting. 

“Hey! Sorry again, I was…” Shane didn’t finish his sentence. 

Hayden, J.J. and Gil glared at him.

“What’s up guys?” he asked while he set his bass down.

J.J. scoffed, Gil rolled his eyes, and Hayden just took a deep breath.

“We need to talk, man,” Hayden sighed.

“Okay…” Shane replied with hesitation. “If this is about me being late so much, and missing practice last week…”

“Obviously that’s what it’s about,” J.J. said flatly.

“I’m really sorry, it’s not going to happen again —” Shane started, but Hayden interrupted.

“Are you playing bass with Bear Knuckles?” Hayden asked with an accusing tone.

“Um…”

Shane knew he should have told them. He hated lying. But the thing was… Ilya wasn’t lying when he said he hated The Voyageurs. And he wasn’t shy about sharing that opinion with anyone who would listen, especially not after a few beers. So Hayden and the guys weren’t exactly Bear Knuckles fans. Shane kind of kept to himself that he actually really fucked with their music, despite Ilya’s whole intimidating asshole thing. Which Shane was admittedly kind of attracted to, and now knew was mostly a front. Except the part where he thought Hayden basic and boring. That part was real.

“Jackie’s friend Lucy was the photographer at the PUP show last week, the one where Bear Knuckles opened. Remember how we all agreed we weren’t going to that? Because they’re always talking shit?”

“Uh, yeah… I remember.” Shane was sure he was blushing violently, which was definitely giving him away. 

And look, he knew he really should have told them. And he would have! If it was just playing bass. But now that he and Ilya were… involved? Not dating, because that’s not what they were doing. But that complicated things, so he kind of just pretended it wasn’t happening while in the comforting confines of this basement that he’d been playing in for years. With his best friends. Who didn’t know he was gay. Shane wished he could sink into the unfinished concrete floor. 

“So you probably understand why I was kinda confused when I saw Lucy’s Instagram post with all her pics from the show and someone who looked suspiciously exactly like you was on the stage playing bass with Bear Knuckles. With the guy on drums, who, if you’ll remember, is always talking shit about us.”

“So yeah, about that,” Shane started. “I meant to tell you, I really did. I thought about it, but then I figured, hey, I’m just playing one show with them as a favor, and no harm no foul, right?”

“No harm, no foul?” Gil jumped up from the couch he was sitting on. “You lied to us! That’s harm, bro.”

“I’m sorry!” Shane shot back, “I know it was fucked up. But I didn’t want to have this conversation. I knew you guys would be pissed, and I was doing it as a favor to Rose, and it really is not a big deal! I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Shane, you’ve been late to the last two practices and missed the one before that. That’s not like you. And we were worried about you, man. But turns out you were just stabbing us in the back!” J.J. piped in.

“Okay, I think backstabbing is a bit of an exaggeration,” Shane hedged. 

“And why are you doing a favor for Rose? She’s your ex-girlfriend, and isn’t she gay now anyway? Come on, dude, you’re not getting her back.”

Shane would have laughed at how little Hayden understood the situation if this wasn’t such a tense moment. 

“Guys. Look,” Shane stepped towards them, hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

“No, dude, sorry,” Hayden interrupted. “We talked about it, and we’re not sure if you’re actually committed to this project.”

“What the fuck?” Shane stepped back again. “What do you mean? I started this band with you.”

“Yeah, and you’re not putting in the work anymore, so it’s time to reconsider. We always said, if someone isn’t pulling their weight, we have to take it seriously.”

“I missed one practice,” Shane shot back. The shock he felt was turning into anger. This felt like a huge betrayal from the guys he thought were his best friends.

“You missed practice to play with the enemy,” J.J. grumbled.

“The enemy? Seriously, J.J.?” Shane rolled his eyes. “You guys are blowing this completely out of proportion.”

“I don’t think we are.” Hayden crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry man, we just need some more time to talk it over.”

“This is fucking stupid,” Shane huffed. “I can’t believe you. All of you. You’re going to let me go, the backbone of this fucking band by the way, just because I’m friends with someone you don’t like?”

“Oh you’re friends now? I thought it was just a favor for Rose!” Gil jumped in.

“You know what? Fuck this,” Shane said as he picked up his bass. Anger flared in his chest, and he felt the sharp sting of tears behind his eyes. “You don’t want me? Fine. I’m going. Good luck finding another bassist, I don’t need this shit. Bear Knuckles wants me to join them full time, and I was going to say no — but I guess I’m about to have a ton of free time.”

“Fine, dude, we don’t need you anyway,” Hayden sounded less confident than he probably wanted to, and Shane knew he was already starting to regret this whole confrontation. But Shane wasn’t going to give these guys the grace they couldn’t spare for him, and he was already halfway up the stairs and out the door, pulling his phone out of his pocket to text someone who actually did want him around.

***

Ilya lounged on his couch, watching Shane pace back and forth across the small living room and listening to him rant — he’d texted Ilya that he was coming over unexpectedly, and had been pacing and ranting since he walked in the door. 

“And then he had the audacity to say he didn’t know if I was committed to the project,” Shane shouted. “Which is complete bullshit, because I literally went there to apologize and tell them what was going on, and they didn’t even give me a chance to say anything before jumping down my fucking throat.”

Ilya laughed then coughed around the drag he’s just taken from his bowl, and Shane turned on him with a death glare.

“What exactly is funny about this?”

“Nothing nothing, just thinking about what other things might be going down your throat,” Ilya choked out with a wink.

“Now is really not the time,” Shane chided, but he couldn’t hide his laugh.

“Maybe come sit down and take a hit of this, you will feel better,” Ilya offered, gesturing with the bowl and lighter in his hand.

“I don’t want to feel better, I want to punch Hayden,” Shane grumbled, but slumped down on the couch anyway.

“He does have a very punchable face,” Ilya reasoned, making Shane squawk in offense. “But you probably shouldn’t.”

“Yeah you’re right. But he would deserve it. They all would. I can’t believe they kicked me out of my own fucking band. That I founded before Gil even got there.”

“Well…” Ilya drawled, taking another hit if Shane wasn’t going to. “You do have another offer on the table. With a better band…” He exhaled the words with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“That’s not the point,” Shane insisted. “The point is that they didn’t even give me a chance to explain! I’m fucking disposable to them.”

“Shane…” 

Ilya needed to get him out of this mood. They didn’t normally hang out on Thursdays, and Ilya was happy to let Shane vent for a while, but he wanted them to at least have a little fun. He rubbed his foot against the side of Shane’s thigh to get his attention and smiled to himself at the way Shane’s leg twitched at the contact.

“What?” Shane asked, frustration still in his voice.

“Forget about them for a little bit. They probably will realize after ten minutes of practicing that you are the only thing stopping them from being totally unlistenable.”

“Oh my god, Ilya,” Shane tried to glare but ended up laughing. 

“Come here.”

With his back against the arm of the couch, legs stretched in front of him, Ilya waved Shane over, spreading his legs to make space for another body. He took another hit off the bowl, holding it in his mouth while Shane crawled to kneel between his legs. Ilya leaned up to meet Shane in the middle and lightly hooked his thumb under Shane’s bottom lip, and Shane obediently opened his mouth. Covering Shane’s mouth with his own, Ilya exhaled the cloud of smoke he’d gathered, and Shane’s eyes closed as he breathed it in and held it there. 

Ilya watched, rapt, as Shane’s lashes fluttered against his cheek and his nostrils flared with his exhale. He couldn’t quite believe just how beautiful this man was, and how stupid he had been for not doing something about it sooner. 

Shane opened his eyes, squinting at him with a suspicious smile. 

“You’re trying to distract me,” Shane accused affectionately. 

“I’m succeeding, yes?” 

Without letting him answer, Ilya put his mouth back on Shane’s, invading it with his tongue rather than billowing smoke, and pulled Shane down on top of him. Shane moaned and leaned into it without hesitation, opening his mouth and digging his hands into Ilya’s hair. 

When they finally separated, Shane laughed, “Yeah, you’re succeeding. Thank you.”

“Want more?” Ilya asked with a cheeky eyebrow quirk.

“More what, weed or making out?” Shane chuckled.

“Either. Both?” Ilya laughed. 

Shane adjusted his position so he was straddling Ilya’s lap, then reached to pick up the bowl and lighter Ilya had set on the coffee table.

“Looks like there’s only one hit left,” Shane said with mock melancholy. 

“Guess we’ll have to share it,” Ilya smirked back at him. 

Shane sparked the lighter, and Ilya felt the heat spark in his gut as he watched Shane put his kiss-swollen lips to the glass. His eyes tracked the flutter of Shane’s lashes as he breathed in, and he felt himself already starting to get hard. He was hungry for Shane in a way he’d never been for anyone before, and with the comfortable buzz of his high pulsing where their bodies touched, Ilya felt on fire with need. 

When Shane reached the end of his long inhale, Ilya took hold of his jaw with both hands, dragging him forward until their mouths met. Shane exhaled into Ilya’s parted lips, and Ilya held his gaze as they shared the same breath. Ilya had done this before with countless partners, but the level of intensity that simmered between him and Shane was incomparable — he couldn’t tell which was more intoxicating, the THC in his lungs or the feeling of Shane’s dick getting hard against him.

“Feel better?” Ilya asked as Shane opened his now-relaxed eyes. 

“Better,” Shane whispered with a slow smile. “I mean, still annoyed. But…” Shane ground his hips down against Ilya’s. “This definitely helps.”

“Let me show you how helpful I can be.” Ilya squeezed Shane’s ass. 

“Fuck. Please.” Shane laughed through a moan and dropped his forehead to Ilya’s.

“But in my room. I don’t know when Sveta’s off work.” 

Ilya nudged him and Shane scrambled off the couch — remembering why they normally hooked up at Shane’s place. But there was something nice about having Shane here in his space. It made it a little less illicit. Sveta could walk in and see them here making out on the couch, and Ilya wouldn’t mind at all. He knew Shane would mind, his nerves were fried from years of hiding in the closet and only having secret hookups with strangers. So maybe Ilya could get him used to being here, used to being seen by someone who would be nothing but supportive. 

Walking backwards, he pulled Shane by the belt loops into his room and nudged the door closed with his foot. Ilya was buzzing pleasantly and every touch of their skin sent pleasurable tremors through his whole body, so much so that he was having trouble kissing Shane through his grin.

“I think I need a little more to get on your level,” Shane laughed as Ilya settled back onto his bed and wiggled himself contentedly into the comforter.

“There’s a pen on dresser, I think,” Ilya chuckled. “But you have to take off clothes first.”

Shane stood at the foot of his bed, looking down at him with a sardonic smile. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm,” Ilya hummed. “My drugs, my rules.”

With an eye roll and a laugh, Shane whipped his t-shirt over his head and flung it at Ilya.

“Good boy,” Ilya trilled. “Now pants.”

“Jesus Christ," Shane breathed, and slid his pants down and stepped out of them. “You’re still fully dressed, you know,” Shane pointed out as he turned to the dresser to grab Ilya’s pen and take a hit.

“Well come fix that,” Ilya laughed. He was so comfortable, he didn’t want to move an inch, hoping Shane would do the work of getting him naked instead.

He watched as Shane took a couple of pulls from the pen and put it back on the dresser, then shed his boxer briefs. His dick was hard and at attention, and Ilya’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth at the sight. 

“I thought you were supposed to be the one helping me,” Shane asked as he walked slowly toward the bed and climbed onto it, kneeling before Ilya with a lazy grin and raised eyebrows.

“This is helping. Undress me to distract yourself.” Ilya shrugged from his position against the pillows, and he dragged a socked foot up Shane’s bare thigh, making Shane shiver.

“You’re such an asshole,” Shane grumbled, but he took Ilya’s foot in hand and removed the sock, then did the same to the other. 

“You always say that,” Ilya chuckled as he lifted his hips for Shane to pull off his shorts and briefs.

“I always mean it,” Shane replied, placing a kiss on Ilya’s thigh, making his hard cock twitch. “Now get over here.”

Shane pulled him up with a fist gripping his threadbare tank top, and Ilya’s head lolled backwards with a giggle. It was a struggle against Ilya’s happily heavy limbs, but Shane finally got the shirt off of him too, and then they were both naked, the weight of Shane’s body pressing Ilya into the mattress.

They lazily made out, all soft and messy lips and tongues, contented sighs, and hands roaming every inch of each other’s bodies. Ilya loved sex, he always had, but stoned sex was on another level. And stoned sex with Shane was like… well he didn’t know if words existed to describe it. His blood felt thick as it pumped through his veins, like honey dripping languidly off a spoon. But at the same time, he could be floating a few inches off the bed for how weightless he felt. It was a contradictory kind of pleasure, nothing should feel this good, but he never wanted it to stop. And they weren’t even really having sex yet. 

Shane breathed into his mouth. “I need you to touch me.”

“I am touching you everywhere,” Ilya hummed into his ear.

“Touch me here,” Shane groaned and grabbed Ilya’s hand from where it was tangled in his hair and moved it to his cock, which was hard and throbbing in Ilya’s hand now. 

Ilya huffed a laugh, “Fuck, Shane, you’re so hard.”

“Yeah, I thought you were gonna help me with that.” Shane’s grumble turned into a moan as Ilya stroked him slowly with a loose fist. 

His cock was smooth and warm, and Ilya felt himself salivating as Shane tilted his hips into Ilya’s hand.

“Like that?” Ilya whispered into Shane’s ear.

“Fuck. Yes.” Shane hissed, his breath tickling Ilya’s shoulder and making his hand squeeze tighter around the hard length in his grip. Ilya wished he could literally be touching Shane everywhere right now, wanted every inch of his skin soaking in the heat radiating off of Shane as he thrust into Ilya’s hand. But instead, he released him, pushed him onto his back, and loomed over him.

“You know, if you didn’t have band practice, we could do this every Thursday,” Ilya said smugly. 

“Oh yeah? Guess it’s a good thing I was kicked out of my band, right?” Shane laughed, and Ilya was relieved to hear it — he wasn’t sure how sensitive Shane was about the whole situation with the Voyageurs. 

He hoped this meant Shane would join Bear Knuckles for real. And to drive his point home, Ilya began kissing down Shane’s neck, across his chest, stopping to lave each nipple and make Shane shudder. 

“Oh shit,” Shane hissed when Ilya reached his hard and straining dick and took it in one hand to direct the dripping head to his mouth. 

Ilya lapped at it lazily, letting his saliva mix with the precum that was leaking from the top and dragging the moisture down with his hand. Shane breathed deeply and whispered rambling nonsense that sounded something like “fuck, yes, please, so good, oh god, yes, fuck” and Ilya couldn’t stop himself from pulling off and smirking. 

“So you will be in our band? Is this what you’re saying?” Ilya asked, lips brushing against Shane’s cock as he did.

“Shit, Ilya, I don’t know,” Shane panted. “Kinda preoccupied right now.”

“I think you do know,” Ilya said, then wrapped his lips around Shane again and sank down all the way to the base with a filthy slurp.

“Oh holy what the fuck, whatever you want, I don’t care, just don’t stop doing that,” Shane threw his head back against the pillow and Ilya hummed around his cock. Now that he had his answer, Ilya would stop teasing. 

He bobbed on Shane, taking him fast and deep, and all his senses focused in on the delicious sounds Shane was making, the feeling of the spit dripping down his chin, the faint smell of weed that lingered in the room, and the sight of Shane, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in pleasure. It wasn’t long before Shane’s hands threaded into Ilya’s curls, and the slide of fingers across his scalp made him moan while his entire body shuddered. He was floating on a different plane of existence right now, even with his dick still untouched and heavy between his legs. 

Shane finally whined, “Fuck, I’m gonna come, oh my god I’m gonna come so hard.”

Ilya heard the warning and stayed exactly where he was, humming again and hollowing his cheeks around Shane’s cock as it pulsed into his mouth. Shane tugged Ilya’s hair lightly, prompting Ilya to turn his eyes up where he met Shane’s gaze — his eyes were glazed and his face flushed as he spasmed one last time, giving Ilya the final bit of his release. Ilya savored the bitter taste of it in his mouth as much as he savored the lust-drunk look on Shane’s face.

Pulling off and wiping his chin with the back of his hand, Ilya crawled up over Shane and straddled his chest, presenting his rigid cock to the sweating and panting man below him. He put his hand out, palm up, and Shane looked at it, a little dumbstruck as he recovered from the intensity of his orgasm. 

“What?” Shane asked, smiling stupidly. That pen had the good stuff in it, and Ilya was loving this softened, silly face looking up at him.

“Spit please,” Ilya nudged Shane with his open hand.

“Oh… fuck,” Shane huffed a laugh and then spat into Ilya’s hand. It wasn’t much. Fucking drymouth. But Ilya added a bit of his own, dick getting impossibly harder at the way Shane’s pupils expanded at the sight.

Ilya stroked slowly, his hand bumping Shane’s chin, the head of his cock against Shane’s lips. It sent a shiver up his spine when Shane’s lips parted and his tongue darted out to lap at the underside of the head. Ilya was so sensitive and worked up from the weed and having Shane’s cock in his mouth that he was already teetering on the edge of orgasm. They stayed in this position for a minute or two until Shane huffed impatiently and started shoving Ilya off of him.

“What the fuck?” Ilya protested.

“Get on your back, I wanna do this properly,” Shane said more forcefully than Ilya expected, with the same look on his face he had when he was playing a complicated riff. Ilya didn’t realize he was so turned on by Shane’s competence and perfectionism until this moment, and that was…what the fuck was that?

Of course, Ilya obeyed immediately and lounged back against the pillows and headboard so he could watch while Shane sank down onto his desperate cock. The slurping sounds were almost gross, but that’s how you know a blowjob is good, and fuck — it was earth-shatteringly good. 

“Shane, oh my god, so good, you’re so good for me,” Ilya babbled. “I’m gonna come sweetheart, fuck.”

At that, Shane sucked him down to the base, and Ilya felt his cock throb into the back of Shane’s throat. Reaching out to grip Shane’s hair and hold him in place, Ilya’s pleasure reached its peak and spilled over, ricocheting through his body and making him cry out with the intensity of it. Shane stayed in place, taking every pulse of release down his throat with a satisfied hum. 

When he finally pulled off, he licked his lips in a move that was downright vulgar and had Ilya wondering if he could get hard again 30 seconds after coming. 

“Jesus, Shane,” Ilya breathed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut as aftershocks coursed through his veins. 

Shane flopped back on the mattress next to him and started giggling, an arm draped over his eyes as he laughed uncontrollably. Ilya turned to his side and propped his head up on an elbow to take in the uncharacteristic unabashed silliness he was witnessing. 

Ilya was, unfortunately, entirely smitten. And he could only keep his hands off of Shane for so long, so after a few seconds, he draped himself over Shane’s chest, and Shane dropped his arm to the side. His eyes were crinkled, tears of laughter escaping from the corners, and Ilya’s heart did a funny flip-flop.

“Sorry, sorry,” Shane eventually breathed, opening his beautiful (and yes, bloodshot) eyes and smiling down at Ilya, whose chin was perched on his hands on Shane’s chest. “I don’t know what happened there. That was so fucking hot, and then I just couldn’t stop laughing.”

“I think is hormones and weed mixing together in your brain, making you crazy,” Ilya chuckled.

“Sorry about that,” Shane said again with a sigh.

“Don’t be sorry. I love it. Nice to see you not tense for a minute,” Ilya teased.

“Yeah well…” It sounded like Shane was about to attempt a witty comeback, but he altered course and his expression turned sweet. “Thanks for like… helping with that. I know I can be kind of intense, but I sort of feel like I can be a little looser around you, I guess.”

Ilya felt like his heart might actually explode now. He didn’t know what to say in response to that, so he just leaned forward and kissed Shane slow and soft, once, then again. 

“You know you said you’re in for playing bass in Bear Knuckles, right? Do you remember that?” Ilya went back to teasing, because Shane’s sincerity was too overwhelming for him at the moment. 

Shane sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I remember. And I guess… fuck it. I guess I’m in.”

Ilya rolled onto his back and punched an arm into the air in triumph. 

“Where is my phone? I need to text Sveta!”

“Why don’t you text her later, and get back over here?” Shane asked, arms open in invitation.

Ilya flopped back over onto Shane’s chest and kissed him again. 

“Yes, good thinking.”

But as if summoned by his words, he heard a slamming door and Sveta’s voice calling out, “Honey, I’m home!”

Ilya groaned into Shane’s warm chest and Shane grumbled, “Well I guess you don’t have to text her.”

“She could have waited like ten minutes so we could cuddle,” Ilya laughed. 

“Is that what we’re doing?” Shane asked with a smirk.

“What would you call it?” Ilya retorted.

Shane squinted his eyes like he was thinking really hard about it, but finally shrugged and said, “Yeah I guess that’s what we’re doing.”

In response, Ilya licked his cheek, which sent Shane into another fit of giggles, which got Ilya laughing, and about 10 seconds later they heard Sveta calling out, “Hi Shane!” as she walked past Ilya’s door to her own bedroom.

That killed the vibe immediately. Shane froze, the look on his face snapping from joyful to tense in a split second, and Ilya steeled himself for Shane to go back to freakout mode. He suddenly felt very sober.

“Hey,” Ilya sat up and pulled Shane with him. “You know she’s not going to tell anyone, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Shane said quietly. “And I know I shouldn’t care so much. And I was thinking of coming out to the guys, but after today, I dunno.”

“Shane, you can’t hide who you are forever,” Ilya said gently, rubbing a hand down his back. “And if you’re going to join the band, might as well also… I don’t know, go public?”

“Wait, like, as us?” Shane gestured between them. 

Ilya shrugged.

“What are… oh god…” Shane dropped his head into his hands. “This is such a fucking cliche… but uh, what is ‘us’? Like… are we… what are we?”

Ilya sat with the question. It shouldn’t have surprised him, not when he literally just suggested telling people about them, but Ilya had never actually had this conversation with anyone before. He just wasn’t a relationship guy. He’d had regular hookups, friends with benefits even. But never a girlfriend or a boyfriend. 

But sitting here with Shane, it felt like the most obvious and natural thing in the world. Since that first practice when he’d kissed Shane, Ilya was more than a little obsessed. And at first he thought it was merely obsession with the way his deft fingers moved across bass strings and his soft lush lips moved across Ilya’s mouth. But the more they did this, the more Ilya realized he actually enjoyed spending time with Shane. Talking to him. Liked him as a person. And still wanted to fuck his lights out too. 

“Um… could you say something please?” Shane asked, head still in his hands.

Oh shit, Ilya forgot Shane had asked a question.

“Fuck, sorry, yes,” Ilya turned to Shane and had to suppress a laugh when he remembered they were both still naked. “I mean, I don’t want to fuck other people. I haven’t been, which is weird for me.”

“Good to know,” Shane scoffed.

“No, seriously Shane,” Ilya grabbed his chin and forced Shane to look at him. “I want to be with you. If you want that.”

Shane’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I want that.”

Warmth spread from somewhere deep in Ilya’s gut and he felt a pleasant simmering buzz again, but it wasn’t the weed, he didn't think. He pulled Shane into his arms and squeezed tight, tight enough he hoped Shane would feel the warmth too.

“I’m gonna go talk to Sveta, okay?” Ilya asked into Shane’s hair.

“Yeah, okay. Give me a minute, and I’ll join you,” Shane sighed and smiled at him, wide and toothy. Ilya gave him a quick kiss, getting mostly teeth but not caring much at all.

***

Shane watched Ilya get dressed, and he tried to contain the nerves that started creeping up his throat as soon as Ilya got out of the bed. He smiled as Ilya gave him one more kiss before he left the room, closing the door behind him. 

He was psyched to be joining the band with Ilya and Sveta; he really did like the music, and it was so freeing to play with people who were excited when he made suggestions and tried new things — who let his artistry and skill flourish. He loved Hayden and J.J., and he had even warmed to Gil when he joined their trio, but he had to admit that they kind of stifled his creativity and wanted to stick to a “more accessible” sound. 

Sveta and Ilya wanted to rip peoples’ ears off and make a political statement and have fucking fun. Shane missed when playing in a band was truly fun — and it had been again since playing with them. But change always made Shane uneasy, so this was just going to take some adjusting. 

Sex with Ilya made the adjustment a little easier, he couldn’t lie. But now he had to face an even bigger adjustment — being gay. 

Well, no. He had been gay forever, probably. Realized it when he was 19 or 20. Acted on it for the first time a couple of years later. But he’d never had an actual relationship. He’d never felt brave enough to tell anyone, until Rose. She was the first person Shane felt truly safe sharing this part of himself with, and it helped that she came out to him as bisexual first. 

But coming out to his lifelong friends? His friends who he played junior hockey with, shared locker rooms with for years, before they quit to pursue the band for real. Coming out to them felt much scarier. 

One step at a time, though. Now he needed to talk to Svetlana. Who already knew he was gay. And obviously knew he and Ilya had been hooking up for weeks at this point. And was obviously queer herself. 

Right. Shane could definitely do this. Svetlana was going to be thrilled he was joining Bear Knuckles. He pulled his clothes back on, and took one more hit from Ilya’s pen for good measure. 

He found them back in the living room: Ilya in the same spot he’d been lounging in earlier, and Svetlana sitting cross-legged in the raggedy old armchair next to the couch.

“Hi Shane,” she trilled with a knowing look. 

Shane bit his lip and felt his ears get hot. “Hi Svetlana,” he sing-songed back. 

Ilya sat up, fixing Shane with his diabolically hot, crooked smile, and patted the seat next to him. Shane sat with a sigh, and the couch creaked under him. Shane was glad they hadn’t hooked up on it — he didn’t know if the old thing could withstand that.

“So,” Svetlana said, all business, once Shane was seated with his thigh pressing into Ilya’s next to him. “Ilya tells me you have news.”

“Oh uh… yeah… I mean,” Shane stammered, “Yeah I guess it’s news? We’re, well Ilya and I…”

“Shane,” Ilya interrupted him with a nudge, “About the band?”

“Oh! Right,” Shane huffed a laugh, embarrassed that merely being next to Ilya made him forget anything that wasn’t about them. “Yeah, um, I’m not playing in The Voyageurs anymore, so I’m a free agent I guess. Meaning I’m free to play bass with you guys. Ilya kinda convinced me, and yeah. I’m psyched.”

Svetlana didn’t look as excited as Shane had anticipated. She just narrowed her eyes at them.

“You should be happier about this,” Ilya said with confusion. “Why aren’t you excited?”

“What was Shane going to say before you stopped him?” She asked with suspicion. 

“Oh,” Ilya smirked, glancing at Shane who just shrugged. Ilya might as well tell her. “We are a thing now. Like official. No big deal.”

Shane knew he was turning pink, and he tried and failed not to smile and glance back at Ilya, who had a twinkle in his eye that melted Shane’s fucking heart.

“That’s it?” Svetlana laughed. “Obviously you’re a thing. Shane,” she looked him right in the eye and said emphatically, “Ilya has literally never been into someone as much as he’s into you. He never shuts up about you.”

“Shut the fuck up, I don’t!” Ilya looked more offended than Shane though he should after their whole afternoon together. “Or I do. I do shut up about him.”

Shane poked Ilya in his side and Ilya flinched. “You liiiike me,” Shane teased through a laugh. 

“Okay, fine, I like you,” Ilya sighed with a dramatic eye roll. “You like me, is great. Can we talk about the band? Which I thought Sveta cared about more than who I’m fucking.”

“Jesus,” Shane rolled his eyes. “Yes!” Svetlana said at the same time. 

She jumped up from her seat at the same moment, moving to grab her phone from the kitchen countertop. “Yes, this is what’s important. Shane, you’re amazing, I love you, I’d marry you if Ilya wasn’t already planning that —”

“Hey!” Ilya protested, but she ignored him.

“—and if I still fucked men. Anyway, I’m going to book us some shows.” She never looked up from her phone, thumbs flying across the screen faster than Shane thought was possible.

He turned to Ilya, who still looked offended by Sveta’s suggestion that he wanted to marry Shane. Shane pouted his lower lip and said pathetically, “You don’t want to marry me?” 

“Oh shut up,” Ilya rolled his eyes and shoved Shane against the back of the couch, and shut Shane up himself by kissing him hard on the mouth.

Shane had no choice but to open to him, letting Ilya’s tongue swipe across his in a kiss that felt a little too dirty with Svetlana in the room. 

“Okay, we’re going to need some rules about PDA,” she sighed. 

But Shane didn’t care. He let Ilya keep kissing him, allowing all the anger and stress he’d felt when he walked into this apartment to fade away.

Chapter End Notes

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